Paradise Lost
by Kadira
Summary: SubaruFuumaSeishirou: set after the original storyline: 'It wasn't about Fuuma, or even Subaru.'


**Disclaimer:** The characters are the property of CLAMP. No copyright infringement is intended, no money is being made.  
**Summary:** _It wasn't about Fuuma, or even Subaru._  
**Spoilers:** the manga and the end of the anime

**Paradise Lost**  
by Kadira (October 2007)

**I.**

The simple white card that eventually finds its way into the envelope contains only two sentences:

_Forgive me. _

_I'm sorry._

It's the result of weeks of struggle, of too many (too-white) sheets of paper, filled with _nothing_, now crumbled in the trash. In the beginning Subaru had thought of calling her, or even to visit her, to admit his last defeat in person, that weakness that even the death of one of them couldn't eradicate. It would have been what his grandmother had deserved, what their clan had deserved. In the end he couldn't do either.

No amount of words, no matter if written or spoken, would ever be enough to make up for what happened, even less justify what he has become. Subaru suspects that she knows already anyway, that she maybe knew it already before he had accepted the eye and so his new duty. And even if he knows that he doesn't deserve it, he hopes that she will be able to forgive him, or maybe at least his former self.

**II.**

"Do it," Subaru whispers, voice hot and urgent, even to his own ears, but unable to help himself and when he opens his eyes, _he_ is there, standing in front of him, smirking-smiling, giving Subaru whatever he needs that moment.

Transformation complete.

Subaru manages to smile.

He's not perfect, far from it, but Subaru takes what he can get and he doesn't go looking for the small signs of imperfection, the proof that the other isn't Seishirou after all. Been there done that, lost the illusion to too much reality. It isn't worth it just to see if the hair is exactly the same length, or if the fingers of his right hand (the one with the blood on them, the blood of his sister) are maybe a tiny bit too long or too thin. Certainly not when he can get a few moments in his own long lost paradise.

**III.**

He smiles faintly as he leans forward, because _this_ Seishirou never takes the first step – one of the many imperfections, but one which Subaru can endure, even with a heavy heart - and kisses the other man, lets the taste and the closeness wash over him, allows it to transport him somewhere else, years into the past, before the end of the world, to a time where there was no Sakura tree that could capture him, where it was just _them_.

It's much less painful than the memories that just won't leave him alone.

And Subaru remembers everything. The way they met on the bridge, how he gave Seishirou fire, their talk, the knowledge that he was going to die. _Finally_. And then not. Instead having Seishirou in his arms (_finally_, but so very wrong. Too heavy and the scent not of life but of blood, too much even for an assassin), holding him, hearing the whisper, the words he had never thought he would ever hear, not in a way that he could believe them.

And how had he wished to die. Sweet relief. So close, he could almost have tasted it.

Not that he hadn't given everything in the fight. He had. Dying at the hands of the one who was responsible for the life he had lived up to now, that had been his wish and he knew that he had to prove himself worthy to be killed by his hands.

But everything he thought he knew had been proven wrong and wishes were never really fulfilled. Not his at least. Never his.

Subaru had held Seishirou, bloody and dying, yet still so much like himself, and even after everything, Subaru didn't want for him to die.

It was wrong.

_He_ was supposed to die at the hands of the Sakurazukamori and not to become the next.

**IV.**

Tokyo has been rebuilt and stands once more high above all, like the eternal guardian. So does the rest of the world. A failed revolution that was never supposed to go anywhere.

And while the world prevails, their lives broke apart.

Joined in the tragic.

In the end, it had brought them here. The former Dragon of Earth, now nothing more than a shadow, and the former head of the Sumeragi clan, now an assassin. They are bound by the blood and the pain of the ones they love, a stain, which they'll never be able to wash off or even to forget.

They are not lovers, not even friends. They are passing acquaintances who have fought on the opposite sides in a war that in the end didn't change anything, but made them lose everything. There are no winners. Not the Dragons of Earth, nor the one of Heaven. Earth is still there, still in pain, still dying. Maybe it would defend itself in time, would finish the revolution that never was. It isn't Subaru's concern, never had been. Only _he_ had.

Sometimes he sees them from the shadows, the few survivors. They never see him and he never seeks them out to talk to them. They belong to a past that never should have been and a future he isn't part of anymore.

**V.**

He is an empty shell, Fuuma had said once, when he was the Kamui of the Dragon of Earth. Subaru doesn't think that he's right. He isn't dead inside. Not really. True, there isn't much anymore that is worth his emotions, but sometimes he can still feel the spark. And he is still captured by the Sakura tree, has advanced from the enthralled to the caretaker, a willing choice in the end.

But Fuuma, who was saved by Kamui at the cost of his own life, is really dead on the inside, more than Subaru. At least Subaru still has something to live for. Not so the leader of the revolution, murderer of his own sister and lover, the deadly twin star. Not by choice, but like most of them, he never stood a chance and in the end only what happened counts.

Subaru lets Fuuma's guilt and pain wash over him when he kisses him, bathes in his desire to die, a wish that will never be fulfilled now, because the time of wishes and hopes is over.

The wishmaster is dead, and Fuuma is eaten alive.

They never ask what the other does, how their life has changed, how they continue existing. They never talk about those who died – _those who _die – by their (by _his_) hands. There's no need for that. They both were in the center and know how it feels to lose everything, including themselves, and how painful it is to even _think_ about it, how there will never be words strong enough to voice what happened, much less to express their feelings.

The rest is irrelevant.

As far as it concerns them, just the moment counts, the times they take for themselves in an attempt to ease the knowledge of the past and the pressure of the present, as well as a future that never came to pass.

**VI.**

In the bittersweet afterglow, Subaru remembers the first time after the end, when they had to discover that the world was still itself and that all their fighting had been for nothing, because Earth didn't get its revolution and humanity still tried its best to destroy the world.

They had met at the foot of Tokyo Tower by chance some days later, surrounded by people who didn't even know what had happened, just were relieved that the series of devastating earthquakes had finally ended. The meeting had been as awkward as it had been unplanned. Much like an accidental encounter between two people who knew that they had lost their right to be part of the crowd and who didn't really knew what to say to each other, but had gone far beyond the use of empty phrases that could tie them over until they could finally take their leave without appearing overly rude.

In the end, they had gone to eat lunch.

"Can you still turn into someone else?" Subaru had finally asked, voice remarkably calm, between a mouthful of spicy pasta and a bite of the too-sweet dessert, both mingling in his throat into something very bitter.

"I'm not sure," Fuuma had said, smiling slightly. "It depends on how you want to see me, remember?"

There was s a fleeting look of desolation in the former Dragon's eyes. Subaru decided to ignore it. It wasn't about Fuuma, or even Subaru. It was about Seishirou and Subaru. Fuuma had known it right from the beginning. After all, he had been the one to take Subaru's eye, the only one who had known what Subaru had really wished for, even if it had never come true.

Only hours later, in some seedy hotel, Subaru had discovered that he obviously still could wish very strongly.

**VII.**

As always, Subaru just stands up and gets dressed afterwards. They don't talk; don't make up another date or place. They will find each other when the time is right. For now, he has a job to fulfill. No longer as the head of the Sumeragi, but as the Sakurazukamori. He looks a last time at Fuuma, realizes with some regret that the spell has worn off, that there is no resemblance anymore to the one whose place Subaru has taken. If it was there to start with. Maybe it has just been in his mind. Maybe it has never been anything else.

He could probably have prolonged the illusion, could have turned Fuuma into Seishirou, at least for some more time. He has the power of the Sakurazukamori after all and weaving illusions is one of the easiest things to do, but the game is over once more. Fuuma, for his remaining power, isn't the one Subaru wants, just as much as Subaru isn't the one Fuuma wants, and Subaru doesn't want to pretend anymore either. Not now.

If he has to be honest then he doesn't deserve even the small comfort of pretending. The few moments he steals are too much already, but they keep him going, touch something inside him, feed the hunger and the memories of feelings that just refuse to die. It never goes any deeper than the surface, though, never really fills the hole within him that threatens to swallow him and to drown him in despair and madness.

No forgiveness, no oblivion. For neither of them. Ever.

When he leaves the house, he stops for a moment, looks around the city that never sleeps and never becomes dark. The air smells of rain, a storm that would arrive soon, he suspects. He hasn't left the street yet when he can hear the first low thunder, which while still hesitant is already loud enough to drown out the voices of the couple across the street, fighting about one thing or the other.

He takes up the cell-phone when it rings, answers with a sharp "Yes." He listens, silently, nodding only once. "It will be done. Tonight," he just says then. He cuts the connection just as the first drop of rain lands on his hand.

Subaru follows the street to the end, then turns right. The former head of the Sumeragi clan wonders if the rain will ever be able to wash off the blood that clings to him, while the Sakurazukamori is already analyzing the situation, calculating if he could use the rain to his advantage.

**-.-.-.-.-**


End file.
